


Record Repeats

by freeshipping



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Hipsters, Angst, F/M, Hipster!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, Sabriel - Freeform, past Sam/Jess - Freeform, past Sam/Ruby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeshipping/pseuds/freeshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester likes his coffee black and his records vintage. After a being left in the dust by his ex-girlfriend, Ruby, Sam struggles to feel alive again, preferring to drown himself in music. Until one day, when a gorgeous stranger walks into his record shop and completely changes Sam's view on music - and life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Afflictions

**Author's Note:**

> So this was going to be a ficlet for [this lovely tumblr network](http://darlingcastiel.co.vu/hipstersamnetwork), but as it turns out I'm terrible at writing ficlets. So this is going to be a multichap instead. Here's the first chapter, I hope y'all enjoy!

The door swung open with a clang of the rusty bell hanging in the doorframe, sending dust particles scattering from the floorboards, illuminated by the late afternoon sunshine streaming in through filthy windows. A petite woman with long brown hair stormed into the shop, slamming the rattling door behind her. She stalked between aisles of old records, her stilettos clicking on the creaking floorboards as she approached the empty desk.

The flowered curtains on the other side of the desk were whisked open as a tall man emerged from behind it, grinning when he saw the woman standing before the desk. His smile faded slightly as his eyes scanned her crossed arms and furrowed brow.

“Ruby?” he questioned, “What’s up?” He tucked a loose strand of shaggy hair behind his ear nervously. He had rarely seen his girlfriend of two years looking so annoyed.

“I’m breaking up with you,” she blurted out. She looked as if she was trying to swallow the words back as soon as they left her bright red lips, but the damage was done.

Sam’s expression fell as he sank onto the tall stool behind the counter. “Why?” he asked simply. He couldn’t be too disheartened; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen this coming.

“I need to focus--”

“--on your career,” Sam finished for her.

She uncrossed her arms, smoothing out her pencil skirt and refusing to meet his eyes. “Correct. I’m sorry Sam, you know I still care for you, but we’re simply too different for this relationship to continue to function.”

Sam stood up, slowly reaching across the counter and tugging her chin up to meet his gaze. He pressed his lips to hers once more, a soft, bittersweet last kiss. She smiled slightly, her dark eyes as dry as his mouth felt. “Goodbye, Sam.”

The sounds of her stilettos as she strode out of the shop would echo in Sam’s head for weeks.

~ * ~

“CHUG. CHUG. CHUG. CHUG.”

The shouts around him were rambunctious, stifling. He couldn’t think well enough to fight back, so he did as they said.

It was probably the worst beer he had ever had. He prefered his soft brews and craft beers, but this was dense and bitter.

“What is this called?” he shouted over the noise to the man standing next to him.

Castiel frowned down at the keg label. “Budweiser?”

Sam felt like he was about to vomit. How he and his friend had ended up at a low-class frat party was a complete mystery. Cas had said something about Sam “needing to get out,” and Cas’s roommate Anna had mentioned something about a party on campus. Next thing he had known, Sam was in the midst of a group of sweaty twenty-somethings grinding to terrible music and chugging what seemed like the worst quality drafts they had been able to find.

He grabbed the front of Cas’s cardigan to steady himself. “I need to get out,” he shouted. Cas nodded wordlessly and grabbed Sam’s elbow, helping him stagger out onto the lawn. The cool night air hit him with a fresh burst, and he felt his lungs expand. He could practically taste autumn on the air, the scent of upturned soil and dying leaves.

He realized he was lying flat on his back, staring up at the circling stars. “Why did we come here again?” he asked weakly.

The dark-haired biology major took a seat on the grass next to Sam, sitting cross-legged and tilting his head back to gaze up into the night. “You were moping,” he replied simply, “Ruby dumped you a month ago and you haven’t been anywhere but class since then.” He lowered his gaze to meet the dark brown eyes staring back at him. “You have friends, Sam, and we’ll help you. Never forget that.”

Sam gave a choked laugh that was cut short as he swallowed back bile. “You call this ‘help?’”

“Of course not.” Cas’s blue eyes turned on him with a pitying look. “This was… a mistake.”

Sam had no response. Both boys turned their gaze to the stars, ignoring the deep bass pumping out across the lawn.

~ * ~

_“We spent too long wasting away_  
 _Counting our hours_  
 _Spending our days_  
 _Moping around in a hurried haze_  
 _Waiting for miracles_  
 _Lost in a maze.”_

The familiar lyrics washed over Sam in waves as the turntable spun, the least dusty object in the whole record shop. He breathed in a sigh and settled into his seat, tapping his fingers on the counter to a rhythm as accustomed to him as his own heartbeat.

_“Crying for lost time_  
 _Falling to old addictions_  
 _Living on a few dimes_  
 _Making up new afflictions_

_Where do our paths part?_  
 _How do we stop?_  
 _When did we break apart?_  
 _We’ve fallen from the top.”_

“Still listening to this hipster crap?”

Sam’s eyes flew up, but he already knew who he would find standing before him. Black stilettos to red lipstick, Ruby hadn’t changed in the three months since their breakup.

“What do you want?” he growled.

Ruby pursed her lips. “I just came to give you your shirt back. I found it last night, didn’t realize I still had it.” She pulled a familiar flannel shirt out of her bag and tossed it across the counter to Sam.

He stared down at it. “What, you didn’t want to… I don’t know, burn it?”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Why, is that what you did to my stuff?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed indignantly.

Ruby laughed, although Sam thought it sounded more like a cackle. “Later, Sam.”

“God, I hope not,” Sam muttered as her heels clacked on the way out the door. He was so focused on glaring angrily down at the shirt in his hands, the shirt that now smelled like her perfume, that he didn’t notice when another figure entered the shop.

It wasn’t until he heard someone humming along to his record that Sam looked up and saw the man perusing the shelves of records, flipping through a few of Sam’s personal favorites with a soft smile. He had shaggy golden hair and was wearing a simple outfit, black skinny jeans and a tee-shirt with a denim jacket thrown over it. But there was something about him, perhaps in the way that he held himself, that had Sam completely transfixed.

He looked up just then and caught Sam’s eyes, raising a curious eyebrow. Sam couldn’t bring himself to look away from the pair of golden, gleaming eyes across the room from him. He knew he should turn his head, do _something_ else, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Precious Tower?” the man asked. It took Sam a moment to register what he was talking about.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, they’re my favorite band.” He gave the man a weak smile, hoping it didn’t look too pained.

The other man gave Sam a crooked grin, peering at him through horn-rimmed glasses. The record paused for a moment before the strains of a new song started up. This one was soft, with minimal drums and acoustic guitar, synthesized chords overlaid with quiet horns to give an almost eerie effect.

The vocals started up, whispering across the aisles of dusty records:

_“Twenty-thousand grains of sand_  
 _Hopeful heartaches, aching hands_  
 _Reaching toward the burning sky_  
 _Rocks and sand will never die.”_

“This is one of my favorites.” The man had approached the counter and was leaning casually against it, close enough that Sam could smell him. He smelled like vanilla and cherries.

“Me too,” Sam replied quietly, “Or it used to be. Now it just reminds me of my ex.”

The man closed his eyes, swaying softly to the music. “The one that just walked out of here?”

“How did you…?”

The man gave him a knowing grin, his eyes still shut. His lashes were long and curling, and looked like they belonged on someone else’s face. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Same gave a resigned sigh. “No. A different ex. She -- she passed away in a house fire. We were only fifteen, but she was my first girlfriend and my best friend.” He still felt a sting of pain thinking about Jess, despite the fact that it had happened so long ago. It was hard to feel completely numb to something that had been so painful.

“And this song reminds you of her?”

Sam said nothing, remaining silent as the chorus hit.

_“Burning, burning, bring me down_  
 _Drag me toward the crumbling ground_  
 _Fill me up without a sound_  
 _Burning, burning, bring me down.”_

The man finally opened his eyes, peering up at Sam over the rims of his glasses. “Ah. I see.” There was no pity in his voice, only empathy and openness. After years of people feeling bad for him, Sam appreciated that. “You shouldn’t make this into a sad song, you know. It’s not as depressing as people think it is.”

Sam snorted. “It isn’t?”

The man pressed one long finger to his lips. “Listen.”

_“Weakened, bleeding, lying cold_  
 _Crying over stories told_  
 _The road drops off into the night_  
 _The light is burning, burning bright._

_Burning, burning, bring me down_  
 _Where our hopes are never found_  
 _Dreaming of that lonely sound_  
 _Burning, burning, bring me down.”_

“It’s a song about salvation,” the man whispered, “A song about living and dying and finally, finally… being saved.”

“So why the burning?” Sam asked quietly, “After all, that is the name of the song.”

“Not literal burning, dummy. Figurative burning. Burning emotions, burning passion, burning desire. Something along those lines.” The man tilted his head slightly, and Sam had the distinct feeling he was being scrutinized. “Do you know what it’s like to burn?”

“I, uh… I guess so? You mean like, are there things I’m passionate about?”

The man held his intense stare for a moment longer before blinking, the moment broken. He shrugged. “I think that’s for you to find out, gigantor.”

Before Sam could say another word, the man plucked the latest Precious Tower record from a nearby shelf and tossed a fifty onto the counter. “Keep the change,” he called back as he strolled nonchalantly from the shop.

It was only after he had left that Sam realized he hadn’t gotten the man’s number, or even his name.

And oddly enough, he was regretting it.

_“We feel, we fall, we stop and stare_  
 _Hearts are torn apart and bare_  
 _This building’s creaking in despair_  
 _Here we go,_  
 _I’m burning._

_Burning, burning, bring me down_  
 _Cap me with a thorny crown_  
 _Killing for a dying sound_  
 _Burning,_  
 _Burning,_  
 _Burning,_  
 _Bring me down.”_

  


  
  


 


	2. We All Fall Down

Sam spent a disproportionate amount of time in the coffee shop over the next few weeks. There was something about the ambience of his favorite grungy corner cafe that made it easier for him to work. He liked the coffee there, the pastries, the people, and most importantly, he liked the music. They played a steady flow of bands like Spatial Tendencies, The Rioting Aardvarks, UnAmore, Bravethings, A Myriad of Discontent, and, of course, Precious Tower.

It was where he brought his homework to study, his journal to write in. It was his special place, where he could go to relax. As much as he knew he was falling into a stereotype, with his thrift-store flannels and thick-framed glasses, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He had never brought Ruby to the cafe, a fact for which he was now immensely grateful.

It was raining that afternoon, and Sam was studying for an upcoming law exam. He was currently in a pre-law program, studying to be an environmental lawyer. He wanted to make a difference, as cheesy as it sounded, and his strengths lay in language and debate.

“I notice you’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

Sam looked up to see the barista standing in front of him, holding a cup of coffee. She was pretty and blonde, decked out in a black leather jacket. She looked like she could kill a man.

Sam gave her the friendliest smile he could muster. “Yeah, I like it here. It’s easier for me to concentrate.”

Rather than taking the hint, the barista sat down across from him and slid the coffee across the table. “On the house,” she said.

Sam made an appreciate noise and took a sip. It was strong and black, just how he liked it.

“So what about your friend, the one you usually come in with? He hasn’t been here recently, what’s up with that?”

It took Sam a moment to realize who she was talking about. “Cas? Um, he’s been… busy. I think he had a new girlfriend, although he hadn’t said anything to me about it,” he admitted. “He’s been a bit secretive, you know? Always busy, sneaking around. I guess it’s none of my business.”

The girl squinted at him for a moment, clearly trying to assess if he was being honest or not (which he was). Evidently she found him to be honest, because she took a deep breath and reached across the table to shake his hand. “Meg.”

“Sam.”

“I have to get back to work now, but I expect I’ll see you around. Enjoy your coffee.”

Sam watched her walk away. Normally he would have been flirting with her, seeing if he could get lucky, but his heart hadn’t been into it recently. It had been three months since his break-up with Ruby and although he was 99% sure he was over it, he still wasn’t in the mood for dating.

Not girls, at least.

Oddly enough, his mind kept wandering back to the golden-haired man who had wandered into the record shop that one day back in October. He tried not to think about it too much, but he couldn’t stop his subconscious mind from going _places_ when he was asleep.

His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID before answering. “Cas?”

“Yes, hello Sam, what are you doing tonight?”

“Um.. nothing, why? What’s up? You sound a bit out-of-breath.”

“Nothing, nothing really. Just um, do you want to go to a club? A couple friend invited me out, and I thought it could be fun.”

Sam had to bite back a laugh. Since when had his cardigan-wearing, science-obsessed friend been a fan of night clubs? “Sure Cas, sounds great. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas snapped, “Perfect, actually. Practically serene. Just having a few.. .friendship problems. With this person I know. Nothing much, just bickering. Need to relax.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.”

Cas clicked off without another word, leaving Sam wondering what was really going on.

~ * ~

A wave of sound hit them as soon as they stepped through the back door to the grungy night club. Sam silently thanked the heavens that at least it was good music. The song was by a hip new band called The Collared Dreamers. It was far more upbeat and electronic than what he usually listened to, but at least it wasn’t something from the hip-hop charts or - god help him - the Top 40.

Anna, Castiel’s roommate, had been able to sneak them in through the back entrance on account of having some connection to the manager (distant relative? casual hookup? dogsitter?). She was a pretty redhead who seemed sweet and shy, but Sam got the feeling she had an impressive amount of street cred.

“Who are we meeting?” He asked, nudging Cas’s shoulder as they made their way up a sketchy flight of stairs.

“A couple friends… of a friend,” Cas replied.

“Friends of a _friend?_ ” Sam asked incredulously. Cas hardly spoke to anyone except his friends, let alone meet up with people he barely knew in a grungy hipster club.

“Yes, Sam.” Cas turned to look at him. “You know, I do speak to other people sometimes.”

Sam held up his hands in an expression of mock defeat. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to imply anything. Just surprised, that’s all.”

As soon as they set foot in the crowded dance hall, Sam began regretting his outfit. For one thing, his jeans did not leave very much room for movement, let alone dancing. The room was practically buzzing with energy, bodies pressed together in every corner in a tangle of sweat and skin. For another thing, most of the people here seemed to be wearing black, with tattoos and piercings and hairdos that Sam hadn’t previously known were possible. He was horribly out-of-place in his gray sweater and black beanie.

_“We came to dance, not to fight_   
_We’ll make our peace, we’ll dance all night_   
_Let us put our bloody weapons down,_   
_And pulse to long forgotten sounds.”_

The lyricist was enthusiastic, Sam had to give him that much, although he wasn’t sure it technically counted as singing. He was so absorbed in the music that he almost didn’t notice when Cas started chatting with a couple men nearby. It wasn’t until Cas tapped him on the shoulder that he thought to turn around, and when he did his jaw nearly dropped.

Standing beside Cas were two men, probably in their late 20s or early 30s. One of them wore a low vee-neck, tousled blonde hair and an over-confident smirk. Sam barely took in the drink in his hand and his generally snobby aura before his attention shifted to the shorter man beside him. Tight jeans, expensive shirt, aviators. Golden hair.

It was the man who had walked into the record store a month earlier.

“Heya, Sammy.” The man grinned and held out a hand for Sam to shake, which he did slowly. “Luci’s told me a lot about you.”

“Luci? Oh, you mean Lucifer?” The owner of the record store was only about fifteen years older than Sam himself, and one of the more pretentious men Sam had met. Sam wasn’t entirely convinced that his boss wasn’t running a drug ring out of his basement, but he had decided not to question it. “Why, what did he say about me?”

The man shrugged. “Nothing significant. Said you were smart, a hard worker, college student. Attractive.” Sam was sure he would have seen the man wink if he hadn’t been wearing those stupid sunglasses. “I’m Gabriel, by the way. This is Balthazar.”

The blonde man took a swig of his scotch, eyeing Sam predatorily. “Pleasure,” he drawled in a heavy British accent, before turning his attention back to Cas.

Gabriel finally whipped off his sunglasses, tossing his hair out of his eyes in an overly dramatic gesture.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, um, why was Lucifer talking about me?”

Gabriel stared up at him with a piercing gaze. Sam knew he was being evaluated, and wondered how a man who was at least a full head shorter than him could make him feel so intimidated. “Because I asked,” Gabriel replied simply, “I wanted to know more about you. After all…” He reached out one finger and dragged it lazily down Sam’s chest. “You are… what are the kids calling it these days? A fine piece of ass.”

Sam was sure he would be laughing if this were anyone else, but there was something about Gabriel’s sharp gaze and the way he held himself that demanded respect. “I, uh, thank you?”

“Come on, big boy,” Gabriel teased, grabbing Sam’s hand before he could protest, “Let’s dance.” He dragged a reluctant Sam onto the dance floor and away from Cas and Balthazar. Sam soon forgot about the pressing crowd as Gabriel began to dance, throwing his hands above his head and rolling his hips in a distinctly seductive manner. Sam found himself paralyzed, unable to tear his eyes away from the (not unattractive) man circling and thrusting his hips in a way that was downright pornographic.

_“Can you hear my beating heart?_   
_Pumping through the dirty dark_   
_Sing me songs of sweet surprise_   
_Make me melt, yeah, make me rise.”_

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the black floorboards and caught him staring. Sam immediately gulped and averted his eyes, turning to leave the dancefloor. There was no way he could stay here.

Before he could get away, he felt a strong grip on his arm, whirling him around so he was face to face with Gabriel, who reached up to wrap him around Sam’s neck. “I don’t usually get to play with gorgeous creatures like you, Sammy,” he purred in his ear, “Stay for a bit.”

_“We’ve been drowning, pulled around_   
_We’ve been searching_   
_Leaving, dying_   
_We’ve been drowning, yeah you know_   
_And in the end, we all fall down_   
_Yeah, in the end,_   
_We all fall down.”_

Sam was beginning to feel uncomfortable. As far as he knew, he had never been into guys. It had been nerve-wracking enough when Gabriel had occupied a disproportionate amount of his thoughts and daydreams, and he had started to wonder. But now, faced directly with the prospect of going home with a man, he felt a bit queasy.

He gently detached Gabriel’s hands from his neck, giving the smaller man what he hoped was an apologetic look. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” He felt Gabriel’s stunned eyes on his back as he fled from the club before he could regret his decision.

He stumbled onto the sidewalk into a burst of cold air, the music chasing him through the night.

_“We’re still drowning, never stop_   
_We’ve been searching_   
_Lost, confused_   
_We’ve been drowning, yeah you know_   
_And in the end, we all fall down_   
_Yeah, in the end,_   
_We all fall down.”_


	3. Let's Go, No One Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy has a crisis and Dean tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated this in so long! I have no excuses. I will update as frequently as possible for the rest of the summer, as well as working on my past WIPs (why did I do this to myself). For now, enjoy this short (and possibly uneventful) chapter :)

“Sam? Will you please open up? I’m worried about you.”

Sam immediately recognized the voice as Cas’, but it still took him a few agonizing minutes to drag himself up from the couch and shuffle over to the door, a blast of fresh air hitting him as it swung open.

Cas looked taken aback at his friend’s state. Sam was dressed in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. His hair was a mess and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“You left the club quickly last night,” Cas muttered, his voice low as his eyes continued to search the taller man’s face. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Sam didn’t respond, stepping aside and allowing Cas to enter his tiny apartment. Sam had been living alone for the past four months, but his apartment seemed even smaller without Ruby there to fill it up with her infectious energy. “Who was that man last night?” He asked abruptly, his voice flat.

Cas gave him a puzzled look. “Balthazar? He’s a professor at one of the universities, teaches poetry or poly sci or something pretentious. Why?”

“No.” Sam took a breath to steady himself, suddenly realizing he hadn’t eaten all day and it was nearly three in the afternoon. The air felt stale around him, his breath heavy in his throat. “Gabriel.”

Sam could physically _see_ when Cas began to understand what was going on. “You left because of him.” It was not a question, and Cas’ face gave nothing away. “Did he hurt you?”

Sam let out a choked laugh, leaning against the arm of the couch where Cas was seated. “Nothing so obvious. I don’t really want to talk about it. I just needed to not see anyone this morning, is that okay?”

Cas frowned. “Sure Sam. You sure you’re okay?”

Sam shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes, and said nothing more. Cas left without a word. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

~ * ~

Sam’s older brother spontaneously showed up on his doorstep two days later, decked out in his usual leather jacket and poorly-fitting jeans, smelling of five different kinds of grease and hair gel. “Cas sent me,” he said by way of greeting, “We’re leaving.”

“For how long?”

Dean shrugged. “Sam, Dad _died_. Four years ago. We’re all we’ve got.” He spread his arms in what Sam supposed was a welcoming gesture. “We’re gonna set out in the impala to eat shitty food and listen to inappropriately loud rock music and hook up with questionably clean women and you’re going to stop whatever this existential crisis is that you’ve been having.”

Sam stayed silent. He had been having trouble summoning words lately. “Can I bring my books?” He asked finally.

Dean glared up at him. “You may bring _one_ book, but you’re not gonna spend this whole trip reading. Choose wisely.”

~ * ~

“You’re a fucking snob, you know that?”

Sam wrinkled his nose, pushing up the sleeves of his flannel and squinting down at the black substance in front of him. The low hum of a morning diner swelled around him, the low chatter of passing waitresses and the clinking of low-quality silverware on plates that were certainly not 100% ceramic. The noise filled Sam with something he couldn’t quite pin down, an almost-nostalgia for all the time he and his brother had spent traveling around the countryside with their father as children. He didn’t miss it at all, but at the same time…

“Just drink the damn coffee,” Dean grumbled, downing his third cup of the morning. His sandy hair was sticking out in every direction, still wet from the two-minute shower they had each taken before being kicked out of the questionable motel.

“That is a very loose definition of ‘coffee,’” Sam retorted, but he drank the damn coffee anyways.

“God, you were always a fussy little shit,” Dean commented, almost wistfully, as he eyed his younger brother.

“ _I don’t understand why we can’t just go home,” Sammy whined, his eyes wide and brown and his cheeks streaked with tears. The eight-year-old was curled up the backseat of the John’s Impala, his knees pulled up to his chin and a huge flannel wrapped around his shoulders._

_Dean sighed and perched on the seat next to him, one arm wrapped around his younger brother’s shoulders. “Because Dad has to work,” he replied, explaining as best as he could. “If he doesn’t work, we don’t have money, and then we don’t eat. Plus he does good work, and we have to be thankful.”_

_Sam sniffed, wiping his face on the oversized shirt. It was painfully cliche but Dean’s heart was breaking. “Because he catches bad guys.”_

“ _Right,” replied Dean, “because he catches bad guys and gives them to the government, and the government gives him money so we still have a place to eat and sleep. I know traveling around is hard, but at least we get to see all the cool sights!”_

_Sammy bit his lip, fighting back tears. He was a big boy, he couldn’t cry. “I don’t want to see all the cool sights,” he whispered, “I just want to have a home and a mom again.”_

_Dean ran his fingers through the younger boy’s hair. “I know. You will, someday, but right now we have to do what Dad says. He’s an adult, okay? He’s smarter than us.”_

_It was several long moments before Sammy spoke again, and when he did it was with a fierce determination. “I will have a family someday. I will have a house and a family and a good job and I will never make my kids leave if they don’t to. And then I will never, ever, go on another road trip.”_

The music rolled out of the speakers with a soft whine, mellow guitar accompanied by breathy singing.

“What the fuck.”

“It’s my turn to pick the music, Dean,” Sam pointed out smugly.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, clutching the wheel tighter than necessary. “Who the fuck is this?”

“The 1886.”

“What?”

“It’s the name of the band. The 1886. They’re a great band, Dean, even if they’re not _Metallica._ ”

“Have they ever heard of electric guitars?”

Sam shrugged. “They use synthesizers sometimes.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.”

Sam passive-aggressively turned the volume all the way up. “Just listen to the lyrics,” he practically shouted.

_“Let’s go, rock and roll_   
_Engines revved and phones on hold_   
_We sleep all day and work for night_   
_Let’s go out and fight, fight, fight_

_“Where we’re going, no one knows_   
_Where our hearts at, oh no no_   
_Where we’re going, love won’t stand_   
_You lift me up, I break your hand.”_

“This is fucking depressing,” Dean shouted, although it was clear he was enjoying himself, the windows rolled down and a breeze drifting in from the open countryside. They were outside the suburbs now, with nothing but grass on either side of them.

“It’s inspiring,” Sam retorted.

“Who the fuck did you learn that from?”

Sam was silent, because he knew who he had learned it from and he didn’t want to think about that particular person just yet.

_“Let’s go, hell below_   
_Risen from a pile of stones_   
_Here’s my soul, please burn it up_   
_Let’s go out and fuck, fuck, fuck_

_“Where we’re standing, no one knows_   
_Where our minds at, oh no no_   
_Where we’re standing, peace will break_   
_Hate is beauty, love is fake.”_

“Tell me you’re not still hung up on Ruby,” Dean said out of the blue.

“What? No. It was over long before she dumped me.”

“But you’re hung up on someone.”

Sam swallowed. “Someone else. No one important. It’s not important. I want to forget about it.”

Dean let out a loud laugh. “Dude, we need to get you laid!”

_“Let’s go, soaring high_   
_Certain that we’re gonna die_   
_Take my money, take my land_   
_Let’s get up and stand, stand, stand.”_

“Do we really _need_ to…?”

Dean was still laughing, grinning in that way that could light up a whole town. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? No more of this sappy romance bullshit for you, Sammy.”

“But I like my sappy romance bullshit,” Sam replied sheepishly.

Dean quieted down, his voice taking on a more serious tone even as he kept his gaze steadily on the road. “Sam, you either need to deal with this person face-to-face or get over them. I don’t care how, but it will ruin you if you refuse to deal with it. Trust me, I know.”

_“Where we’re lying, no one knows_   
_Without our voices, oh no no_   
_While we’re lying, worlds will fall_   
_This love is a mighty brawl_

_“Let’s go, no one knows_   
_Let’s go, oh no no_   
_Let’s go, take my blood_   
_Let’s go, kill my love.”_


End file.
